


Haunted Foundations

by Clockworkpulse



Series: Haunted [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, M/M, Mystery, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6718213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockworkpulse/pseuds/Clockworkpulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an accident forces him into retirement, Peter Burke moves into a house in Upstate New York that is famous for being supposedly haunted. He doesn't believe the rumors until he comes face to face with Neal Caffrey, a famous con man who has been dead since the sixties.<br/>As time goes on, they begin to grow closer but Neal's death remains ambiguous at best. Wanting to find the truth and perhaps bring some closure to Neal, Peter begins to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The House

Nobody had lived in the house longer than two months and nobody had lived in it period for almost a decade now. Nobody wanted to, nobody was crazy enough which meant that Peter Burke was well and truly out of his damn mind.

Peter’s never put much stock into ghost stories though and just the thought of haunted houses made him roll his eyes. The things people would believe even in this day and age was truly astounding. The house was simply old, no ghosts, no demons, nothing, just age wearing it down and eliciting involuntary creaks and groans from it. It was all so harmless.

The house in question was located in Upstate New York, tucked away from the other homes and far from any form of civilization. Just how Peter wanted it. He’d moved back Upstate for the peace and quiet, the hustle and bustle of the city was killing him lately after his forced retirement. He had to escape and so here he was.

Movers would be coming to the house tomorrow to drop off everything. Only things Peter had brought with him was a suitcase full of clothes and other necessities along with some sheets and a comforter. There were some things in the home that had always remained, beds being one of them, complete with mattresses which the realtor promised had been cleaned thoroughly.

Collecting his things, Peter made his way into the house. They say that if a place is haunted it will have an oppressive air to it. Peter felt no such thing when he set foot inside the house. Of course the story was unfounded, there was no such thing as ghosts. Peter shook his head and made his way to the stairs.

~

When he was told that some things had remained, he didn’t realize that meant everything. The photos he’d seen of the house had made it look far more empty. He guessed he should have checked out the house before buying it, figure out it was a trick by the company to con people into buying by thinking that they wouldn’t have to figure out what to do with the furniture. Peter had thought of actually going to the house to look around but he was still in a wheelchair at the time, stairs were hell, and his frustration at everything had caused him to just purchase the house impulsively.

It’s not that he minded and that the furniture wasn’t nice, it was just that he didn’t have anywhere to put his own. Peter supposed he could call the moving company and ask them to bring it to a storage locker. He’d just have to get one of those now. So much to do in such a small window of time but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Finishing putting his clothes away, Peter grabbed his phone and laptop to begin the search and make some calls.

It was when he was straightening up that a chill ran down his spine. Shivering, Peter also grabbed a sweater. It was so cold all of a sudden. Maybe the house always was and him moving around the whole time had masked that fact. Heating system was old too and it could have suddenly stopped working. Peter made a mental note to check it out shortly, at the moment, it wasn’t so cold that it was an emergency.

~

The heating system was still working when he went to go check on it. By the time he made his way to the basement to check, the chill had gone away but he wanted to make sure and here it was, working and throwing off some intense heat. Strange.

With a light frown, Peter returned to the main floor, closing the basement door behind him. The good thing was that it was working, but then what was with the chill he’d felt earlier? The people who bought into the whole haunted house thing would say it was a ghost, Peter decided to chalk it up to those random chills one gets at times, even if it didn’t quite feel that way.

Oh well, no use worrying about it now. It was over, Peter had made his calls and purchased a storage locker. Time to relax.

Popping open a beer, he sat on one of the expensive looking couches in the living room and propped his feet up on the coffee table. They were up there for barely five seconds before they suddenly dropped to the floor.

Peter stared at his own feet in bewilderment. It had felt like a force had shoved his feet off the table but it couldn’t have been. His feet must have slipped, that was it. Even so, he didn’t put his feet back up.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened the following days after that incident. Peter went about his normal, everyday life and he didn’t see any ghosts or doors opening and closing by themselves or any other event that would have people saying the place was haunted. Of course it had all been a bunch of bull. Peter was right.

~

Peter and Elizabeth would have made a perfect couple but they had simply remained friends. It was just one of those things that everybody thought should happen but unfortunately didn’t for any number of reasons. On occasion, Peter wondered if it wasn’t too late but never acted on the thought. He didn’t want to mess anything up between them.

El, as she was affectionately called, ran her own event planning business. She did quite well for herself and her more refined pallet and appreciation of the arts certainly helped in her work. As did the fact that she was a warm and open person that you couldn’t help but trust.

She supported Peter when he was forced to retire early from the FBI due to an accident that occurred in the field and she supported him all throughout his recovery. So of course she’d support his idea to move somewhere more remote where he could be more at peace.

She’d heard of the house before from a client’s teenage daughter. When Peter had told her the name of the house, she’d done some more research on it. Elizabeth didn’t buy into the whole haunted house thing either but she had to admit it did make for an interesting story.

It was more beautiful in person than in the photos. It was a large black house, apparently it had been white until some years ago when some people decided to paint it black to really reflect the supposed haunted nature. The windows appeared to be blacked out or they had heavy dark curtains blocking the view, difficult to tell. The front door was an incredibly dark purple (once red) and the porch was also painted black. Gorgeous plants of all color surrounded the house and outlined the stone walkway nicely. It was at once intimidating and mesmerizing.

Elizabeth had barely stepped onto the walkway when Peter came out the front door and went to greet her. They met halfway, hugging tightly.

“So, see any ghosts?” She asked with a grin. Peter only rolled his eyes.

“Not one.”

“Shame. Could have been fun to get your Ghostbuster on.”

“You think I could pull off the outfit?”

“You’d wear it best.” They both laughed then at the image of Peter wearing a Ghostbuster’s uniform. Wouldn’t that be quite the sight.

“I’ll take it,” Peter said. “Come on in.”

~

As Peter expected, Elizabeth was in love with the interior of the house. From the furniture to the very structure of it.

“Who lived here originally again?” She asked over her shoulder, admiring a chaise lounge.

“A notorious con man, Neal Caffrey. He died back in the sixties. It’s lost to the public how exactly that happened though. Most people figure it was suicide.” El made a displeased noise at that. That noise meant ‘what a shame’ and not 'how selfish’. She wasn’t the type of person. “Want something to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“Coming right up.”

~

El stayed for about two hours before she had to get back to the city with promises to visit again soon. Peter bid her farewell saying he was looking forward to it and that was the honest to God’s truth. El was like a beacon of light and he was always more than happy to see her.

Peter was already planning some things in his head when he was retiring for the night. His thoughts and routine were shattered by a sudden thud from downstairs. He waited awhile until he heard another sound, like something was being dragged across the floor…moved.

Then he heard footsteps walking up the stairs for a few moments and seconds later heard footsteps as they went downstairs. Peter grabbed the bat in his room and slowly made his way to the stairs.

"Whoever the hell is in my house had better goddamn get out!” Peter shouted down the stairs.

“Don’t you mean my house?” A voice said ever so casually from behind him.

Peter whipped around to see a man in a very nice, authentic suit from the 50’s standing there. He looked normal enough except for the fact that Peter could somewhat see through him. When Peter finally paid attention to his face, he was ashamed to admit it took him awhile to recognize it.

“Neal Caffrey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was supposed to be a long one-shot but I decided to split it into chapters so as to be easier for me. I hope you like it.


	2. Ghost Eviction

This couldn’t be real. Peter couldn’t be seeing what he _was_ seeing because ghosts just _didn’t_ exist. All those tales of people seeing ghosts were all simply someone’s eyes playing tricks on them or they were fabrications made by somebody for fifteen minutes of fame because if there was one thing that wasn’t lacking and would always get somebody noticed, it was people’s obsession with ghosts. That’s all it ever was but then here Peter was, staring at a man that had died fifty years ago.

He sure as hell couldn’t have gone crazy in the week he’d lived in the house and he knew it couldn’t be his eyes playing tricks on him because as much as he blinked, the image of Neal Caffrey didn’t dull or waver or disappear. There was absolutely no indication that this might be some sort of hallucination that Peter’s mind had cooked up.

This begged the question though, had others seen Neal too? Nobody had ever really made any claims to having seen the man but then again not everybody who’d lived in the house after Neal died had shared their story of living there. It was always possible. With all these thoughts racing through his head, Peter said:

“I have to be seeing things. Maybe I’m actually in bed and this is all a dream.”

“Do you often dream about other men?” Neal questioned with humor in his voice. Leave it to Peter’s shit luck to have him wind up in a house with not just a ghost but a mouthy one at that.

“I’m going back to bed,” he said, ignoring the other. “I’m going back to bed and when I wake up, you won’t be here.” Because ghosts _didn’t_ exist. It was the story of the house that was getting to him, plain and simple. Peter was far too stubborn to accept what was occurring at the moment was real even if he had been referring to the other in his mind as a ghost already.

Neal didn’t say anything as Peter turned around and immediately went back to his room. Of course he didn’t because he wasn’t real, it was just Peter’s brain making things up because of all the stupid stories that surrounded the house. He wasn’t falling for it so his brain wasn’t daring to even think of making the other talk again. Good, it was easier to ignore him that way.

~

In the morning when Peter woke up, he ran through the house quickly to check it. No sign of the infamous conman Neal Caffrey could be found and Peter felt relieved. He’d been right, it had just been his mind playing with him. It was a little strange how it had been so vivid though.

Peter decided to push it out of his mind in favor of breakfast, no use continuing to think about it when it wasn’t real. As he crossed the living room to go into the kitchen, a voice startled him.

“Sleep well?” The suddenness of it made him trip up and bang his leg on the coffee table _. Hard._ Peter swore under his breath before whipping his head to the side to see Neal Caffrey sitting on the couch. Oh no.

_Okay, stay calm Peter. Even if this is real, even if he’s really a ghost, he would have hurt you by now if he wanted to_.

That was how Peter rationalized it in his mind so he didn’t lose his cool. It wouldn’t help him at all to lose his composure right now. Of course most would lose it in a situation like the one Peter found himself in but Peter had always prided himself on keeping it together very well under even the most distressing of circumstances which he supposed now extended to the existence of ghosts. And if that very thing didn’t sound crazy he didn’t know what would.

“Why are you here?” What the hell kind of question that was to start off with Peter had no idea but it was out there now and it was better than nothing he supposed.

“This _is_ my house.”

“It’s _my_ house. My name is on the deed.”

“I was here first.” Peter couldn’t help but just stare at the other. Did he really say something so childish?

“You’re dead.”

“And?”

“I didn’t think I needed a reason past the fact that you’re dead and have been for fifty years.” A silence fell between them, both men staring at each other for long moments before Neal decided to change the subject.

“You’re very calm for someone who’s acknowledged that they’re speaking to a dead man.”

“It’s not easy, believe me, but luckily I won’t have to deal with you for very long.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Oh, I have an idea.”

~

“Are you serious?” Neal asked, clearly unimpressed as he saw the priest shuffle into the living room that afternoon. He crossed his arms and legs and leaned back into the couch to watch the show.

Peter held a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion.

“He can’t hear me.” Peter only shot him a dirty look as the priest began talking.

“Where is the apparition?”

“He’s sitting right on that couch.”

“What’s its name?”

“Neal. Neal Caffrey.”

“Hello, Neal.” Neal only rolled his eyes. The fact that Peter had actually gotten a priest to try and help him pass on was so ridiculous. Peter couldn’t actually think it would work, there was no way but then again, here was a priest right in front of Neal getting ready to try and help him let go.

Peter hung back as the priest went on to try and appease Neal’s spirit and help him find the light. The entire time the man worked, Neal went from looking bored to looking somewhat amused and back again.

The priest was there for nearly two hours trying to get Neal to go away but it didn’t work and Peter figured that maybe the priest just wasn’t the right one for the job as strange as it seemed.

Over the next two days, Peter brought in several different people to try and shoo Neal out of the house, try and make him leave Peter alone but to no avail until the last person he contacted. A young self-proclaimed medium who dressed in such a stereotypical manner for her profession that Peter had second thoughts but was so desperate he let her at least try anyway.

Peter was sitting in the chair that his butt was becoming extremely familiar with at this point when Neal’s image finally faded away. He sighed in relief.

“He’s gone.” The medium smiled brightly at his announcement.

“All in a day’s work. My fee is two-hundred dollars.” It was outrageous but she had done good work, work that Peter appreciated.

He hadn’t wanted to share a home with a ghost and over the last two days Neal had given him very little reason to change his mind, what with moving things back that Peter had himself moved, switching the placement of certain items, and the like. Neal was trying to maintain the house how he’d always had it and refused to accept that it was Peter’s now and changes were going to be made. It was better that Neal moved on anyway and not just for Peter’s sake.

~

It was nice to have the house to himself. It felt just like those first few days before encountering Neal without the strange happenings that were courtesy of the other man.

El would be visiting in a few days and it was good that Peter wouldn’t have to worry about a ghost wandering through his house and possibly pulling something while El was there. Though Peter had to admit, Neal could have before when Elizabeth had first come over and Peter couldn’t yet see him but he hadn’t. Peter shrugged it off. Didn’t matter, Neal had to go no matter what.

After a day spent working in the yard, Peter had a small dinner (microwavable but he would never admit that to Elizabeth) and grabbed a quick shower before collapsing into bed for the night. He felt bone tired and could tell that tonight he’d get some great sleep.

“You know, this was my room when I was alive.” Peter’s eyes flew open. _No._ He sat up with a quickness that no one would expect from a man in his late forties and looked towards the wall left of the bed to see Neal standing there. He gave Peter a smile when the other’s eyes landed on him.

“You didn’t actually think it would be that easy to get rid of me, did you Peter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over two months and I am so sorry for that. But here we go and hopefully I'll be getting chapters out quicker now that I'm writing again. I'm gonna try really hard guys, I promise! I'm just working on three fics right now and have two others planned not to mention writing original stuff so things are a little crazy. My apologies.
> 
> How Neal knows Peter's name is going to be explained right in the beginning of the next chapter, it's not really mind blowing. It's very simple, honestly.


	3. The Garden

The ghost was still around. _Neal Caffrey_ was still around. Nothing Peter had done had gotten rid of him and this entire situation was past annoying already. Peter had moved into the house for peace and quiet, not to have it haunted by a long dead conman. A conman who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table right this second at nearly one in the morning. 

Peter should be sleeping right now, _wants_ to be sleeping right now but here he is.

“Why am I the only one that can see you?”

“I don’t know,” Neal replied. “You’re the first person who’s been able to see me since I died.”

“Lucky me,” Peter sighed.

“Yes, clearly you’re suffering in this situation, Peter.”

He shot the ghost a dirty look. He really didn’t need the smart ass attitude at the moment.

If he could, he’d sell the house in a heartbeat and move somewhere that was less haunted. Retirement, even premature retirement, should be relaxing. It had been at first, before Neal made his presence known and ruined it. Nobody could really fault Peter for wanting the peace back. Unfortunately, as it stood now, he really was in no position to sell the house and move again.

“And that brings up another question. How do you know my name?”

“I _have_ been around since you moved in. I heard that woman, Elizabeth, call you Peter.” Peter was giving him a look like he didn’t believe that’s how Neal learned of his name. “I may have also taken a peek inside your wallet when you left it on the counter that first day.”

“That’s what I was expecting to hear.”

“Reason for that being…?”

“You’re a conman.”

“ _Was_ a conman, I _am_ dead now. Have been for fifty years.”

“You’re not leaving anytime soon, are you?” Peter asked, brushing off the comment.

“Afraid not.”

“That’s just perfect,” Peter sighed.

“My presence can’t be that bad.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Neal feigned hurt but it did little to get any sort of response out of Peter. All that did occur was Peter standing up and announcing that he was returning to bed and Neal was left at the kitchen table by himself.

Hopefully the conman wouldn’t be the cause behind getting Peter out of bed for a third time since he moved in.

~

If Peter was being honest with himself, he’d have to say that he may be acting a little too harshly towards Neal but could anyone really blame him? After he was forced to retire due to his injury he thought he was done dealing with cons and their ilk but here he was instead, with an unwelcome entity.

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Neal was at least a good house guest (guest because Peter owned the house now as much as Neal loved to say he still owned it) but he wasn’t. He was still giving Peter a difficult time about moving things around the house and that was incredibly irritating.

“Stop it,” Peter would say as he tried to remove a framed photo of Times Square off the wall that Neal was holding down firmly with one hand. Damn ghost had the strength of about a hundred men to him.

“Leave it alone,” Neal would say in turn. His hand remaining firmly on the picture. Peter quickly reaching out to grab his arm but Neal simply fading it out so Peter’s hand would go through nothing but air.

“Neal, I want to make some changes to the house. Let it go.”

“And I don’t want you to make changes to it. I like it the way it is.”

“ _Neal_.”

“ _Peter_.”

Rinse and repeat.

In a way, Peter had a right to his harshness.

The only way Peter was allowed to move things was when he was cleaning the house because it was a temporary move. All items would be returned to their rightful places and nothing was being changed. One would think that after fifty years, Neal might welcome some change in his surroundings but the ghost was adamant about it remaining the same.

There was one other thing Peter could do besides clean the house though and that was tend to the garden. Not only did it run the length of the walkway but it wrapped around the house as well. It was beautiful and vibrant. A lot of care was put into it and since he had moved in, Peter had wondered who took care of it before he bought the house.

Nobody had shown up since to water the plants or pull up weeds and that made Peter wonder all the more.

~

The house had been cleaned just yesterday and Peter’s knee was aching lightly but it was a tolerable ache. He was so used to pain shooting through it that this was nothing. A light massage around the joint and it’d be fine.

He was having lunch in the kitchen, one hand on the knee, his thumb rubbing circles against it as he was lost in thought.

The garden was starting to get full of weeds and the light drizzle of rain they’d gotten over the past couple days surely wasn’t enough to keep the flowers alive. There were gardening tools in the basement, he knew that. Only problem was there was nothing to rest his knees on and if he spent a long time kneeling on the ground with nothing to cushion them, he was not going to be getting out of bed the next day. Perhaps he _could_ use a pillow.

Getting up, he went to retrieve the things he’d need. His mind was settled and when it did, he liked to see things through.

~

Once he was outside and setting up, Peter kept glancing back at the house. For whatever reason, Neal never stepped out of the house. Not even just to stand on the porch. Looking at the garden from inside the house just wasn’t the same as seeing them outside. He would have thought that Neal would like to step out and look at the flowers. He guessed he was wrong about that.

Peter was about half way down the line on one side of the walkway when he heard approaching footsteps. He looked up to see an elderly woman approaching. She noticed him then and stopped, a look of surprise on her face that quickly gave way to a smile.

“Hello.”

“Afternoon,” Peter greeted as he stood up, pulling off his gloves as he did so.

“I didn’t know anyone had moved in.”

“I just moved in about two weeks ago.”

“Oh, that explains it. I was on vacation.”

“I take it you’re the one who did…all of this,” Peter said, gesturing towards all the flowers.

“I did,” she said with a certain type of pride.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. My name is Lorraine Tate, by the way. I live about a mile away.”

“Peter Burke,” he said. “You walked?”

“It’s good for me and I enjoy the walk. Keeps the heart young and ready to party.” They shared a chuckle at that. “It’s good to see that somebody cares about tending to the garden though. The last ones to live here, they let it all die. I had to replant the whole thing.”

“Do you mind if I ask you why you went to all the trouble of making it in the first place?”

“You’ve heard the stories about this place, right?”

“That it’s haunted? I have.” Best not to let her know he knew full well it _was_ haunted and had had arguments with the resident ghost. Even if she believed in such things, Peter felt it was a secret he had to keep to himself.

“Well, when I moved up here a little over thirty years ago I heard those stories too. I’ve always been a spiritual kind of person and I just thought that if it’s true that there’s a ghost trapped in there, I could at least give him something nice to look at. Just a little something that could make him happy even in death,” Lorraine explained. “It sounds silly I know but I enjoy it.”

“It’s not silly.”

“Well, thank you. Not many people share that sentiment. Promise you’ll take good care of the garden?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you. Truth be told, I’m glad someone moved in again. Not sure how much longer I can keep up the walks or the work.”

“It’s in good hands, Ms. Tate.”

“I’m sure it is. But you know, I still might just drop in once in awhile to see how it’s going.”

“I hope you do.”

~

Lorraine went home after that and Peter was allowed to return to his work. Even with the pillow under his knees he couldn’t go more than an hour working on the garden. At least he had finished both sides of the walkway.

Neal was by the windows at the front of the house beside the door when Peter got in.

“She made that garden for you.”

“I know,” Neal said.

“The least you could do is throw the poor woman a bone and go outside to look at it. Even if she doesn’t know.” Neal remained quiet. Peter raised an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t like Neal to be quiet, he’d gathered that much about the other. “Anyway, Elizabeth is coming over tomorrow and I need you to be on your best behavior.”

It was at that that Neal grinned and turned to face Peter.

“I will be the perfect boy scout,” he said, giving a two finger salute.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No excuse for this chapter taking so long. Sorry. Plot stuff in a couple chapters.
> 
> Also, Happy Caffrey-Burke Day.


End file.
